


My Tragic Fate Is Looking So Clear

by xoimadivaox



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Feelings of Inadequacy, Gen, Insecurity, Set during 2x16 God Johnson, Spiraling in self-doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:58:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoimadivaox/pseuds/xoimadivaox
Summary: Coming face to face with his Father was bad enough on its own, but add to that His liberal use of Samael − a name Lucifer has come to despise − and being locked away in a mental institution − at his request thank you very much − and Lucifer would flippantly defend himself by asking how could they havenotexpected his mind to come a tiny little bit undone.





	My Tragic Fate Is Looking So Clear

**Author's Note:**

> If you’ve ever watched Lucifer with subtitles, or read any Biblical text for that matter, then you know that, grammatically speaking, you are supposed to capitalize his/him (amongst other things) when speaking about God. Why am I saying that, you ask? Well, for the very good reason that it would do you well to remember that for later on. (Or as later on as you possibly can in a 1k ficlet)
> 
> Title from Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold with a tiny little tweak.

“You lied to me,” she accused and Lucifer flinched.

Normally, he would never have left an accusation such as this one fly with him. The impudence! _Him_! Lying! Had the words come from anyone else, any other demon, Lucifer would not have hesitated to tear them apart limb for limb, but, as it were, they had come from the Detective's mouth and it was all he could do not to physically recoil. Then again, maybe the ice settling in his veins had something to do with that and wasn't that just the most ironic thing he'd ever heard?

“What?” Lucifer chose to ask instead, internally grimacing at the tremors in his voice. “When have I ever, Detective?”

He tried raking his brain for any lie he could have ever dared feed her, but he came up empty. Half-truths? Those he could list dozens. Slight omissions? Just as many. But blatant lies? No. Never.

“‘ _God-given, I'm afraid_ ',” she quoted in a terribly mocking imitation of his accent, the disdain taunting her words palpable.

He blinked quite a few times as his brain tried to catch up with her train of thoughts. _When in Dad's name had he…_

“ _Lucifer_ ,” she spat, as though the word itself was nothing but the worst insult he could have thrown at her.

“Detective! What are you talking about?” Lucifer exclaimed, desperate to understand.

“You lied to me,” she repeated, “ _Samael_.”

This time, there was nothing Lucifer could do to stop his reaction. He recoiled, sucking in a sharp breath, taking a step back as if she had just punched him in the gut.

“How… How did you…?” Lucifer let the question hang in the air, words failing him as he fell to his knees before her.

“How could you?” Chloe shot back, disgust shining in her beautiful blue eyes. “You preach honesty and yet, the very first words you tell me are nothing but a lie. How could I ever trust you? Why did I ever put my life in the Devil's hands?”

Something nagged at the back of his mind, but Lucifer was too worried, too caught up in the moment, too afraid of losing _her_ to give it a thought. He needed to fix this, stop the argument they were having before it could escalate. He'd get back to these nagging pesky things when he was secure in his relationship with Chloe.

“Detective… Chloe… I…” He huffed a frustrated sigh and made a move to run his fingers through his hair, stopping himself at the very last second. “You're right,” he admitted quietly. “My Dad-given name is not Lucifer. I… I chose it after I was cast out, knowing full well I could not be Samael anymore, would never be again.”

He expected his confession to bring sadness in her eyes, at the very least to deflate the anger that animated her and yet, it only seemed to stoke the fires of her ire. She looked down on him, Her gaze filled with nothing but disdain, disgust and maybe even hatred. For a second, Lucifer was reminded of the look Michael had bestowed upon him just before he had dealt the final blow that had sent him hurtling to Hell.

“You are nothing,” She declared as if She were his juror and executioner all at once and he swallowed thickly. Her opinion of him had always been the only thing that mattered. “You were cast out, abandoned by those who followed you in your foolish war, disowned by your own siblings and now you dare think you belong to Earth? With us? With _me_? How impudent of you, Prince of Darkness.”

Red flags and alarms were blaring in Lucifer's mind but he couldn't focus on any of them, entranced as he was by the Detective's voice. It sounded almost ethereal, as though it didn’t only come from her but also from the stone walls around them, not simply reverberating from every surface surrounding them, but emanating from them.

“Chloe,” he tried again, pleading with Her. “Please.”

He didn't know what he was begging for, not really. He wanted Her Forgiveness, wanted Her Grace to touch him again, to warm his very soul, but why should She? She was right, She was _always_ right. He was tainting Her, he was not worthy of Her, he never would be. He belonged in the shadows, where as She belonged into the light. He was but a cockroach in Her presence. He had made the ultimate sacrifice for Her, twice, but it hadn't been enough. No matter what he did, it would never be enough.

“You are to return to Hell, Lucifer Morningstar, the Lightbringer, Prince of Darkness, Lord of Hell and you are never to return,” She sentenced him, thrusting Her arm forward, hand wide open in his direction.

The wave of power hit him directly in his chest and he was sent hurtling backwards, flailing as he tried to catch himself on something, _anything_ , yelling Her name in supplication.

Lucifer gasped as he broke through the fog, panting as he sat up. _A nightmare_ , his mind supplied, the red flags and alarms finally dying down inside his head. That would explain how Chloe had known everything she had in his dream, all the accusations she had laid at his feet. It hadn't been real. He blinked and took in his surroundings, scoffing when the events of the day caught up with him. _Right. Dad. The mental institution_.

He ran his hand through his hair, grimacing when his eyes landed on the door of his temporary bedroom and again when he caught sight of the moon, still hung up high in the night sky. He couldn't get a hold of Chloe, not at this hour, not with the orderlies having confiscated his phone upon his admittance. He was going to have to wait before he could hear reassurances coming from her, before he could see the tenderness she held for him in her eyes, before he could feel the warmth of her touch.

Wasn't patience a virtue?

It was going to be a long night for the Devil.


End file.
